Chapter 65 #2
“When I killed that mortal boy, the accident in Lumnos City—I pretended not to care, because you told me that a Corbois shows no weakness. And when I begged you to help me find his family so I could at least repay them for their loss, you said, ‘A mortal’s death is beneath a Corbois’s notice.
’ If all that’s true . . . then I’m no Corbois, either.
” Aemonn’s gaze rose to me. “I owe a life debt to that boy. This is how I repay it.”
“I suppose this means I have to fight, too,” Zalaric said, gesturing to Taran and Aemonn with a sigh. “Someone has to keep these two focused on killing the enemy instead of each other.”
“I’ll fight, as well,” Remis said, rising.
“Are you certain, brother?” Garath said. “You won’t last long without any mag—” He placed a hand over his mouth, smiling smugly. “Blessed Kindred, I almost said too much.”
“Without any magic, you mean,” Remis said. “Since I lost mine to a bonded bargain.”
An audible gasp rose from the Twenty Houses. Even Garath looked surprised. While he’d controlled his sons with cruelty, he’d controlled his brother with secrets. It appeared all three of them were ready to be free.
“Perhaps I won’t last long, brother.” Remis said the word with a cutting snap. “But our ancestors did not choose a phoenix as our sigil for us to cower. These old bones are not yet too feeble to swing a sword.” He looked at Luther. “And I will always come when my family calls.”
The other House representatives exchanged looks, none moving to stand. House Corbois was not the influential force it had once been, and with the Embers’ leadership still so new, no one was eager to commit their families to war.
“The people of Emarion have done horrible, unforgivable things to each other,” I said.
“There is so much to be ashamed of, and so many reasons to hate. But look around this room today—everyone has a voice and a vote. No one is hoarding power for themselves, no group is forced into submission because a different group says it’s their place.
We have the power to decide our own fate.
” I looked from face to face. “I know you’re scared of how this ends.
I’m asking you to see this as a beginning instead.
The start of a new Emarion, a future we can be proud of. ”
Norwick Benette gave me a weary look. “Some days I think you kept me alive just to get me killed in a more painful way.” He pushed his chair back and rose. “House Benette will fight.”
The Althiena woman half stood, her legs remaining bent as if they might betray her and fold at any moment. “I suppose we must, too.”
The Hanoverre representative gave a resigned grunt. “Might as well, since we’re dead either way.”
Not exactly enthusiastic endorsements, but it was the momentum we needed. With the largest Houses joining in, the others rose in quick succession.
“I’ll speak with the Ignios noblemen,” Nidara said. “I’ll convince as many to join us as I can.”
“I’ll go back to my village and do the same,” said the Unhoused Descended’s representative.
“So will I,” Henri’s father said. “I’m no good with a blade, but I know who in Mortal City is.”
At last, the only people seated were the Guardians. They had fought with me before. I realized with uncomfortable clarity that there was no guarantee they would do so again.
Cordellia stared at me, arms tightly crossed, ignoring my mother’s adamant whispers to stand. Her dark brown eyes smoldered with indignation at Garath’s earlier insults and the lifetime of mistreatment he had so flippantly told her to get over.
Hurt was a stubborn weed. Left unchecked, it spread with abandon. If the hands that tugged at its roots were the wrong ones, the deeper they’d grow. Sometimes, it spread so fast, pushing out so much other life, the only solution you could see was to set it all ablaze.
“So this man wants to control you all,” Cordellia said icily.
“He wants to tell you where to go and what to do. He’ll give you orders that only benefit him, and he won’t give a damn if it kills you.
He’ll even decide what’s acceptable for you to think.
Everything you’ve built, he’ll take for himself, and if you don’t submit to him, he’ll kill you.
” Her glare slid toward the Twenty Houses. “Where have I seen this before?”
“What was done to the mortals was wrong,” Eleanor said. “We don’t want your kind to suffer anymore. Isn’t that right? We’re ready for change.” She looked around hopefully at the other Descended, some of whom nodded, some simply looking away.
Cordellia let out a wry, breathy laugh. “You know, I met Vance before he was a Guardian. His wife was a painter. A good one. You put her work next to the thing she painted, and—” She whistled.
“Identical. No training, just natural talent. She couldn’t afford paints, so she’d take flower petals and crush them up to make her own.
She liked to paint the same flowers she used—she told me it was like giving them a chance to live forever.
” Cordellia smiled sadly. “Real sweet lady.”
She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.
“Twice a year, Vance would come to Arboros and spend every spare coin he had buying her the most brightly colored flowers in the market. That’s how we met—his eldest was the same age as my twins.
They’d play together while he shopped. After my girls died, his wife painted the most beautiful portrait of them.
It was the only thing I took when our home—”
Cordellia choked up. She looked down at the table, clearing her throat to play it off, though when she lifted her head to speak again, her eyes were lined with silver.
“Vance was a different man once. He was a man who loved his children and bought his wife flowers. The monster he’s become is the monster you all made him.
” She pointed at Eleanor. “You say you’re ready for change.
Maybe I should be grateful. But if I’m really being honest, all I can think about is how many good people had to die for you all to catch the fuck up. ”
Cordellia dragged herself to her feet and turned her head to me. “So help me gods, if there isn’t peace for the mortals when this is over . . .”
“There will be,” Luther cut in. “You have our word.”
I squeezed his hand and nodded.
“Then we’ll fight in your war,” Cordellia said. “But I’m giving my word to every person in this room—my war doesn’t end until there is.”
That afternoon, I took to the skies on Sorae. I flew first to Montios, where Alixe’s rider had already arrived, though two hours of searching for the Montios Descended had done him no good. Only when I arrived did they emerge, and only when the rider left would they speak a word.
I explained the dire situation, the battle that stood before us, and how critically I needed their help. When their council met—the very same group that had inspired me to transform my realms’ governance and abdicate my Crowns’ power to the people—they voted a resounding no.